The Eternal Magister
by Dr. Dragon
Summary: Harry is an Immortal Master of Death. In the Aftermath of the end of the known world, Harry is just trying to re-establish a peaceful society. Now he's a powerful Lord of the Tevinter Imperium and his teachings somehow led to the defiling of 'Heaven', the corruption of 'Gods' and bloodthirsty contagious zombieish creatures trying to destroy them all. How did all this happen again?


**Hi everyone. Got the Dragon Age Trilogy for Christmas and have spent the last month or so glued to the computer screen running through them. Origins and it's expansion and DLC are complete and the sequel is nearly at the end of act 1. That said, I actually got Inquisitions first and one line spoken by the main antagonist really started putting ideas in my head, they grew and adapted and grew and adapted and whilst the middle hasn't formed yet and the beginning is on sketchy ground, I know exactly how this will end. None of my other stories are by any means abandoned. I am planning on getting back to them, but I go where my muse takes me. Before anyone asks, I don't know what I'm doing about pairings yet, or even how many of the different playable wardens will be included. The dwarf noble of undecided gender and the female human noble are definitely there but if you have any ideas about which others you'd like me to include, feel free. You probably have a while until I get that far. There are 2 important arcs I need to complete before we enter the dragon age (the name for the ninth age, not the universe the games take place in) and the fifth blight. I hope you all enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or the Dragon Age Franchises. What follows is a non-profit fanfiction.**

**Prologue – A Brief History of Thedas**

How long had it been? How long since the skies had burnt, how long since the ground had crumbled and the seas turned to ash? How long since those who had once long ago been his people had been driven from the shores only for their ships to sink and the few survivors to be forced back into their caves? He had long since lost count of the years, the decades, even the centuries sometimes blurred together in his memories.

The first decades of his life stood out, watching his grandchildren grow up and his children before them, his first marriage to a woman whose name had long since been lost to time, whose bones had long since turned to dust. He remembered fighting in great battles, ensuring victories in wars and making sure others were never started. He had long since forgotten the reasons for fighting or even who he was fighting against, save for one. His first war. And really, that's where it all began wasn't it. His first battle, where at the tender age of fifteen months, he had claimed victory over a terrible foe. The Dark Lord Voldemort

One could say that those fifteen months were the only times he wasn't fighting. After the fall of Voldemort, he spent the next ten years fighting for survival, years later he would look back and find it Ironic that his relatives had come closer to destroying him, to breaking him than even Voldemort. For the seven years following his reintroduction to magical society, he was nearly constantly in a state of war. Espionage, Assassination, Guerrilla warfare, he had ended up doing all of that in the war. The histories said it had ended at Hogwarts, the school where he had grown up, or at least they had said so before they were lost and forgotten. In truth they were mistaken. It hadn't ended with a glorious battle and it hadn't ended at Hogwarts. It had ended many weeks beforehand in a manor house many miles away, when he had wrestled a thin stick of wood out of a boy's hand. That was when it had ended, that was when he had won the war… and the wand.

And so we come to the Deathly Hallows, those three items desired more than any others amongst those who knew of them. A stick, a scratched stone and an outdated item of clothing. Somehow it was fitting that these were the vessels for the greatest desires of Wizards. Others had tried to take them of course, over the years, many had come to challenge him. It was a mistake none were able to make a second time. That's where it all went wrong. It was noticed gradually, over the course of many years. Years that showed on the faces of his friends and co-workers, but never on his. These three items were the reason that he so clearly remembered his first war, not Voldemort, for many others would follow him, not his youth, for that seemed destined never to leave, but three fairytales and their gifts. Their curse.

It was all so pointless in the end, all the blood and death and pain. When their end came, at the breaking of the world, it was their own fault. They had fought the planet at every step of their development, claiming it, changing it, exploiting it, enslaving it. In the end, the planet fought back. Mankind was all but wiped out, any survivors long gone as the world rearranged itself, new continents forming, new seas filling. The magical creatures of the world survive in different ways. Those that fed on or survived by changing humans died out, the vampires, the werewolves and many others, some such as the dementors went back into the dreams and nightmares from which they had come long ago. The great dragons, lords of sky and flame retreated into their mountain homes to sleep until the pickings were once more plentiful and they could gorge themselves as is their nature.

The elves were the most fascinating. He walked this new world, seeing the new forests, valleys and mountains. Wherever he went, when he found house elves, he imbued his magic into the surrounding landscape that they might survive with their bonds since cut. It was not for many years that he discovered what had been done. He had returned to a place he had found peaceful to find the Elvin changed. Taller, more regal in appearance and vastly powerful in the art of magic. He travelled joyously in the lands the elves had called Thedas, teaching his art to them and learning new things in return. From his magic they took sustenance and from his longevity they prospered.

It all changed when the humans returned. They swept across the lands like a flood, destroying the forests and temples that had been erected. The elves lost their Immortality, and many if not all found themselves incapable of magic. Years passed and eventually a few of the warring clans drew together, led by those who claimed to use magic. He had been intrigued, and had gone to learn more. He found himself disappointed. Their magic was but a pale imitation of what had once been possible. They were unable to truly cast spells themselves, instead drawing their power from the realm of dreams, what hey called the fade.

Still, he had watched humanity fight for far too long, and now some were uniting once more. Wanting an end to the century of battle and bloodlust that had preceded it, he joined this fledging alliance, based around the young port city of Minrathous. He sat and watched, passing himself off as another mage as they began to prosper until a neighbouring tribe attacked, and was quickly driven off. In the decades that followed, he once more led armies into battle, uniting the lands under one banner, that peace may be allowed to reign. When the last of the landlocked nations fell, the armies returned home to find their home changed. Greed and corruption had taken root in the heart of Minrathous, and from there it infected the rest of the new Tevinter Imperium.

For his part during the fighting, and his obvious skill with mage craft, he was granted the title of Magister and a seat amongst the governing body. He took up the seat in the hopes that maybe something could be salvaged from what had become of the fledgling nation. It quickly became apparent that he wasn't aging as others were, many overlooked such a thing, all mages had secrets after all. Eventually he began to take a different approach to rooting out corruption. He began to take those who held promise, from both elf and human alike and tried to teach them to see the world the way he did. Through these lessons, it was eventually discovered that he could 'mark' his chosen apprentices. Through their devotion to him and his affection for them, they could be granted longevity, greater power and an aptitude for the ancient secrets he possessed. He shared much with them, but all eventually left, either to death or the Imperium which demanded more and more aid to keep it functioning despite the politicking and backstabbing of the Magisters.

Eventually, one of the groups of apprentices he had came to him with a question, 'Why did he try so hard?, What did he believe he could accomplish?,'. It was then that he made the greatest mistake in his life. His belief in their strength of character combined with his affection for them led him to show them images of the past though the fade. He drew them to him through their dreams and showed him what man had once been capable of. A Golden city that shone like the sun, with streets of marble and towers which touched the sky. An image taken from his memories, of what the city of London had once looked like in the years before the breaking.

But as a wise man once said 'You would do well not to be caught up in dreams, for men have wasted away before them'. Entranced by what they had seen, they begged to be allowed back, to wander through the city again. He refused and told them that he had shown them in the hopes they could make such a paradise in their own realm. Perhaps, he despaired centuries later, he should have been more clear in his encouragement. His young apprentices came under the belief that he meant for them to find a way to bring the Golden city there, to drag the fade into the corporeal world. To do this, they decided, they first needed to enter the fade itself, to visit the city in their mortal flesh. It took them many years of study and work, work they kept secret form their master but they finally succeded.

They did not know what they would find. When he ahd shown them the Golden city, he had drawn only from the good of society, the happiness, joy and justice of civilization. Here in the fade, the golden city sat at the heart of the land tied knowingly or not to the eldest dreamer alive. His memories and dreams were pleasant but he knew all too well the rot that lay beneath the surface, the rot that infested the heart of the city. Upon finding it, they wondered through the streets, just as awestruck as they had been the first time they had seen it, unaware of the danger that awaited them. They barely noticed as the rot began infecting them, whispering in their ears, praying on their faults and fears, building up their confidences. They fell to shadow, and the city fell with them, Gold turning to scorched black, marble turning to black stone. Upon regaining consciousness they were still present at the fronts of their minds, yet knowing that something was intrinsically wrong. They found themselves twisted turned, their bodies now grotesque, with a deep burning anger at the world, knowing through the rot that even now corrupted their brains that it was the fault of man that they had become what they did. The first darkspawn.

They fled the fade as fast as they could, knowing they could not return to the Imperium or their master they took refuge underground. In time, they came to hate all living things, for the corruption that lay in their hearts, the corruption that had tainted them and turned them into monsters. Many lost themselves to madness, the rest became mindless, feral. In desperation they dug deeper and deeper until one day they found the sleeping form of a great, powerful being. Its presence soothed them, calmed them, allowed them to reason once more, but as it affected them, so to did they affect it. Their corruption seeped into its slumbering form, twisting, changing and tainting as it was want to do. The being awoke, knowing only the anger and hatred that it's new servants felt for the living. The first archdemon, Dumat, the old god of silence. He led his horde through the tunnels of the earth, till they erupted through a cavern, into a cavern of the Deep Rods, near a Dwarven trade caravan. They quickly, visciously attacked the dwarfs, killing many. The few that survived were near death, and in the course of the battle, some had accidently consumed some darkspawn blood. Days later, as the darkspawn were travelling, the corrupted, fallen survivors caught up to them, consumed by the taint.

They had turned hours after they had been left for dead, quickly slaying the few other survivors. They had followed the call of the Dumat, a call that they heard through their very souls, commanding them, dictating them. Knowing the power, their blood now held, they hunted other dwarves throughout the tunnels, slaying and turning all they came across. It took years, but they eventually amassed an army, an overran one of the smaller Thaigs, a dwarven town. The surviving men were turned into darkspawn, but the apprentices, the generals who led the horde had gone too long without knowing the touch of a woman. Those females that were captured, suffered a fate worse than death. Being constantly raped by the horde, caused the taint to be passed to them in a unique way. They became broodmothers, huge creatures that birthed countless darkspawn, swelling the army's ranks. With this discovery, they waged a great war across the Deep Roads, conquering Thaig after Thaig.

The dwarves quickly realised what was happening and fought back, killing any darkspawn they came across. It was not enough. They could only slow down the horde, not overcome it all together. This was shown when the first of the great Thaigs fell. Kal'Hirol, the centre of all smithing knowledge amongst the dwarves was taken by the darkspawn in a battle that lasted weeks. When the dust settled, the Thaig was lost and the darkspawn had aqquired enough broodmothers to make up their losses in a fortnight. Eventually, a dwarven smith named Caridin discovered a way to safely fight them. For his discovery he was made a Paragon, a leader of the dwarven people. By sacrificing a dwarven soul upon an anvil made from the fade itself, the soul could be transferred into a Golem, a giant made of stone or steel. Such creatures were immune to the taint, and could slay many darkspawn before falling. The war quickly fell to a stalemate. The Golems and the layout of the Thaigs, allowed the dwarves to hold their ground, whilst the sheer number of darkspawn prevented them from regaining what had been taken.

With their conquest of the Deep Roads halted, Dumat turned his attention to the surface. For weeks, the broodmothers bred, creating legions upon legions of darkspawn. Dumat then led the new horde up, through the tunnels from the great Thaigs, into the world above. They appeared in many places suddenly, wherever a fallen thaig lay underneath. Dumat himself led his forces from the Kocari Wilds, overtaking all within the marsh, including the members of the Kossith, huge grey skinned horned warriors. Unlike the dwarves, the Kossith showed that they would either take their own lives upon feeling the taint overcome them. The only gain to be had from these people were the potential broodmothers that, upon capture turned out equally huge, monstrosities. Many of these creatures were sent back to the deeproads, to continue the fight against the dwarves, their size and strength equalling that of the golems.

With the inclusion of the new powerful Ogres in the Horde, they quickly swept over the southern lands of the Imperium.

The North was a different story. Their old master had entered battle once more, forcing the darkspawn from the area. He was just one man though and despite having destroyed the tunnel leading to the heart of the empire proper, he was unable to truly drive back the advancing tide.

Then, they came, men, elves and dwarves from the Anderfels who had slain the general sent their, and drank his blood in a cup made for them by the old master. Becoming Immune to the taint, and being able to sense the darkspawn served them well in driving the darkspawn form their land, destroying tunnels and forcing them back to the south.

For over a Century, the Grey Wardens and the forces of the Imperium led by the old sorcerer pushed the darkspawn back until the north of the continent was completely free of darkspawn. Now, they marched south to force the darkspawn from the surface world and slay the corrupted God that led them.

This is where our story begins. In a land torn by darkspawn, the armies of the Imperium and the Grey Wardens would try to defeat those that sought the destruction of all.

**Well, there you go, prologue done, next chapter will go into the first blight, then that will lead into the exalted march of Andraste after which their will be a huge timeskip to just before or slightly after the beginnings of Origins. Dragon Age two will be added after that but only the prologue quest 'The Destruction of Lothering' will take place until Origins is completed. Awakening and Witch hunt will occur after the deep roads expedition, then dragon age 2 will be completed, after which we move into Inquisitor.**

**Last point, whilst, I will try to make it run as close to the plot as I can, things will go slightly AU as we go on, due to the presence of the master of death. For one thing, no disappearing off the face of the earth for the female human noble, both Hawke twins will survive to reach Kirkwall, and whilst Andrastism (did I spell that right) will play a part in the story, as it must in all Dragon Age fanfiction, it will I hope, be done differently, and whilst some parallels might be drawn from it to one or more of the religions in today's world, it is not my place or my intent to insult or degrade anyone's beliefs. It is no business of mine what your faith is.**

**P.S. For those who may not have guessed, the old master or the 'he' mentioned throughout the prologue is an immortal, master of death Harry Potter.**

**That's it for now**


End file.
